Poem: The Controller

This is lyrics of a poem I copied from a local magazine; it is a little fact between Minis Bus (Blue Donkey) and Orange Buses in Addis Ababa city.

The Controller

On a bright Sunday morning in Addis

A man took a bus to see his niece.

The bus went up the main road

It shutters opening and closing

Then came in a woman controller

Asking for tickets routine order.

The man says he had lost his ticket.

The woman say “pocket or wallet?,

You won’t go out, if you don’t get it”.

A lot of argument followed

But the journey continued

At last the man pays thrice the price

And then walked a long distance.

Thinking that he had learnt a lessons,

On which tried every trick to unlearn.

He said a bus ticket was very valuable

As rare and precious as jewelry.

What makes a Mini-bus different is

What no one cares about a ticket

The money collector is an arbiter

A jack-of jall-trades next to the driver.



1 Comment »

  1. Man, Thi sis nice poem. It looks like you are enjoying Addis man. Regards to your wife.


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